longerthanwedo

Title: Wish I Could Wait
Author: longerthanwedo
Beta: melody_so_sweet
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Ryan/Brendon
Summary: Brendon can’t get it past his head, can’t comprehend what Ryan wants. He’s afraid of death, and yet he craves it. He wants to become something that’s immortal, and yet not alive at all.
Disclaimer: I don’t own the people, and the plot inspiration comes from an episode of Buffy. Title belongs to Something Corporate.
Warnings: Character Death/Vampirism.
Author’s Note: I’ve been absent lately. Here is my return to slash in the form of a (surprise) depressing little story. Enjoy.

“Why?”

“Because it’s the only way.”

“It’s not the only way.”

“It’s the only way to stay alive.”

Brendon’s head is pounding.

“You won’t be alive. It won’t be you.”

He’s sure Ryan’s head is pounding a thousand times worse; has been for years. Probably won’t be for much longer.

“I don’t care. I’ll be alive.”

Brendon looks into Ryan’s eyes – intense, determined, wet – and tries to see past the irises, see the turmoil in his brain. He tries to imagine what it must feel like, to have your mind deteriorate like that, ridden with disease and slowly, slowly disintegrating.

Slowly, but speeding up by the day.

“How long do you have?”

“Months, weeks, I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter. It’s not going to happen like that.”

“No. You want it sooner.”

Brendon can’t get it past his head, can’t comprehend what Ryan wants. He’s afraid of death, and yet he craves it. He wants to become something that’s immortal, and yet not alive at all.

“I just want to go on.”

He doesn’t see that his mind won’t go on. Ryan doesn’t understand that the only part of him that will go on is his shell, his skin, and even that won’t be the same. It won’t be warm, worn, stretched with color. It won’t be human.

“Ry, please. It won’t be you.”

Ryan swallows, looks down and up again.

“I know.”

And Brendon doesn’t speak because, this. This is new.

Ryan continues. “I know it won’t’ be me. But isn’t it better for my body to go on? Continue how it is, the only change a few pointed teeth? I think so. I know so. I know it’s better than just going down, shriveling up, losing my hair and my mind. It’s better than being unrecognizable, just…rotting. I’d rather be possessed than disappear.”

Brendon hangs his head because Ryan’s right. In Ryan’s mind, Ryan’s right. Brendon has never been able to understand Ryan’s mind. The difference is that, before, Brendon had never stopped trying to understand it. Now he has no choice. With either decision, Ryan’s mind will be gone. Brendon knows he won’t be able to unlock the secrets of it before the time comes.

“I’m sorry,” he says. It’s all he can do.

“I wish I had a better, choice, Bren, I really do.”

“I know.”

“I don’t have a choice.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. It’s not your fault.”

“It’s not yours either.”

“I know. I love you.”

“So do I.”

“I know.”

And Brendon has to give up because that’s all there is to be said. There’s nothing else he can do.

“When will you go to them?”

Brendon knows it makes little difference, but he doesn’t care. He has to know.

“As soon as possible.”

Ryan shrugs. Brendon knows what he means.

“At sundown,” Brendon answers for him.

Ryan nods and Brendon’s silent. He stands there and tries to picture Ryan like that, like them. Cold and hollow and devoid of emotion, human emotion, no matter how many humans he sucks dry. Only their blood will travel through his veins, not their feelings.

He tries to picture Ryan as a monster. It’s hard to see.

But Brendon looks at Ryan and tries to picture him dead, gone, just bones, deep, deep in the ground, and it’s just as hard. And he knows Ryan, knows he finds the monster vision better, easier to comprehend. Better, but to Brendon worse than anything.

Ryan’s eyes are glassy and light reflects in them, natural, bright light and Brendon wants to keep him. Just like this, alive and breathing, alive.

Brendon falls forward and Ryan catches him, frail, and Brendon’s head on his chest.

“You have life,” Brendon says, ear pressed to Ryan’s heart. “I can hear it.”

“It’s not enough, Bren.” Ryan taps his head. “That, that’s not enough to keep this going.”

Brendon braces himself, hands on Ryan’s shoulders, presses his lips firmly to Ryan’s. He tries to push some of his life into Ryan, like maybe if he tries hard enough he can get Ryan to absorb his health, the health of his brain.

And Ryan, Ryan pushes back, like he’s resisting, like he’s forcing Brendon to hold onto the life he has, like he’s telling Brendon not to waste it on him. Brendon wants to tell him no, wants to make him lie still, wants to make him willing to be healed. He would. He would, if he thought it would help.

They break apart, breathing hard, and Brendon can see the pain in Ryan’s eyes. Pain, headache, constant, constant pain. Ryan hurts, Brendon knows, but so does he. He hurts just seeing the pain in Ryan’s eyes. He hurts knowing he can’t ever fix it.

And he hurts, hurts, hurts, when he sees the orange tint in the sky that paints Ryan’s skin.

“I have to.”

Ryan sounds like he’s convincing himself.

“You don’t.”

Brendon might as well keep fighting, keep fighting till the very end. Till dark.

“I do. Soon, soon, soon. Now. I don’t want to lose anything else, Bren, I can’t.”

And Brendon knows Ryan won’t change his mind.

“Just stay, just until the sun’s gone.”

“It’s as good as gone.”

“Ryan. Please.”

Ryan kisses him; his way of submitting. Submitting to Brendon’s wishes, submitting to temporary life.

Brendon squeezes his eyes shut, painting a picture behind his eyelids of a day long ago, of a sky full of light and a boy full of life, tight in his arms. Ryan’s soft lips move and Brendon can almost believe it.

If not for the red tinge to his vision and the shaking of Ryan’s hands, he almost could believe it.

But then Ryan’s loosening his grip and Brendon’s clutching harder, following Ryan’s retreating form, chasing his skin with desperate lips.

Brendon opens his eyes.

“I love you,” he says as Ryan backs away.

“I love you too. Forever,” Ryan promises.

But as Brendon watches his silhouette head into the dying light, he knows he has but a few minutes left to enjoy Ryan’s love. Because his love will vanish as soon as he gives himself, gives his mind over to the creature he seeks.

Brendon wishes he could promise forever.

But he knows that after this he’ll see Ryan on the street, in the shadows. He’ll see his face, the face so familiar yet so different, and won’t be able to honestly say “I love you.” He’ll see that body, those hands, that face bent over an innocent person and he won’t be able to say “Forever.”

He’ll see the monster wearing Ryan as a mask, and he’ll wish for a split second that Ryan had just let himself die. Because if he’d let himself die, Brendon could honestly say “Forever.” It would still be his Ryan under the ground, under the grass and flowers, and Brendon could kneel over his body and pledge his love, his undying love. He could bury his love underground.

But he can’t let his love chase after this Ryan. He can’t let his heart dart into alleys in the dead of night, just searching, yearning, and turning its back whenever Ryan sinks his teeth into a passerby. He has to let his heart let go.

He has to leave Ryan as he wanders into the dark, and keep himself from running after.

He has to sit back, let the tears flow from his eyes and let his heart regret.

“I’m sorry.”

And he’ll let himself hear Ryan say it back.

“I know.”